


It's a Bad Idea, Me and You

by aliasinvestigations



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: kimilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliasinvestigations/pseuds/aliasinvestigations
Summary: Originally a one shot that I started the night after the infamous Emmy's feast but it's now expanded to three parts because we keep getting fed great content. Emmy's night, Emilia's birthday party, and the aftermath. These two inspired me to sit down and write after a three year hiatus. Mostly fluffy/angsty.
Relationships: Emilia Clarke/Kit Harington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 87





	1. Push It

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic is from a Waitress song but midway through writing this "All I Ask" by Adele popped up on my spotify and I'm going to post some of the lyrics here because they're so fitting. I also wanted to apologize in advance for my heinous grammatical, pacing and past/present tense errors. Like I said I haven't written anything at all in almost four years and I wanted to post the first part of this before the new year so I hope it's not too confusing for anyone. I've kind of implied some things in this story but I left Rose and who or what she is to Kit and Emilia up to the reader. 
> 
> I will leave my heart at the door  
> I won't say a word  
> They've all been said before you know  
> So why don't we just play pretend  
> Like we're not scared of what's coming next  
> Or scared of having nothing left
> 
> Look, don't get me wrong  
> I know there is no tomorrow  
> All I ask is
> 
> If this is my last night with you  
> Hold me like I'm more than just a friend  
> Give me a memory I can use  
> Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do  
> It matters how this ends  
> 'Cause what if I never love again?
> 
> -All I Ask-Adele

Emmy’s After Party September 22nd, 2019

The music is pounding, the festivities showing no signs of stopping. The smell of booze and sweat hangs thick in the air like a fog. They take a break from dancing to sit in a booth, away from the chaos of the main floor. Emilia lazily rests her head on Kit’s shoulder.  
He grins and turns to look at her, “How drunk are you?”  
“Very” she responds with a giggle.  
“That’s what I thought” Kit says and feigns faux disappointment.  
She breathes in and looks up, her large blue eyes full of concern.  
“How are you, though? Are you feeling alright? Not overdoing it?”  
Her voice is syrupy sweet and a little slurred. Emilia knew tonight was going to be hard on him; too much pressure and too many temptations. She promised herself to keep tabs on him, which had been going fine until the booze at the after party started flowing freely.  
Kit shrugs, “Nah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You on the other hand...” he jostles his shoulder to get her to lift her head up. She laughs again and playfully smacks his chest with the back of her hand.  
“Oh shut it! You knew my plans to get sloshed well before we got to this point. And now,” she tries to steady herself and stand up, “I’m going to get another drink”. Her legs wobble and she leans heavily on his arm but can’t quite gain her balance and instead clumsily collapses back down onto the seat.  
Barely functional and yet still so stubborn, Kit thinks.  
“One more drink and then you’re going home.” he says as sternly as he can, “That’s an order, Clarke”.  
Emilia looks at him and pouts but doesn’t protest because she’s already wilting onto the table in front of her, letting her head flop onto her crossed arms. 

Kit orders seltzer water for the two of them, hoping Emilia can’t taste the difference between that and one more fancy mixed drink she’s insisting on. When he returns to their booth he sees she hasn’t moved. She barely looks alive until he nudges her.  
“Oi, got your drink” he shouts  
Her head shoots up immediately and she takes a gulp from the glass. Her face contorts into disgust.  
“Ugh, what is this?”  
“Sparkling water.”  
“It’s awful” she coughs, takes another sip and Kit laughs.  
“If you’re at the point where you think water tastes bad, we’ve got a problem.” he playfully scolds her, “Drink the whole thing and if you’re lucky I’ll get you some flat water to follow up with.”  
She crinkles her nose at him like a child being reprimanded and continues to sip on the fizzy beverage.  
“Let’s go out for one last song yeah?” Emilia yells and grabs Kit’s arm to cautiously stand up.  
Once they reach the dance floor and begin busting out their moves, neither keeps track of how many songs they stayed for, their limbs buzzing and weightless, their hearts alight. 

“I’m tired Kitten,” Emilia says to him in a sing-song voice, her eyelids drooping. Kit smiles at the mention of her cheeky nickname for him.  
“Alright that’s it for the night then, you’re going home.”  
He holds out his arm for her to hang onto and they weave in and out of people towards the exit. When they make it outside, the bright parking lot lights cause them both to squint and grimace. The sounds of the party are now distant save for the vibrating booms of the bass.  
“Wait!” she shouts “Take my picture! Take my picture over here!” she shoves her phone into his chest and hops over to a folding chair in the middle of the garage, nearly breaking her ankle in the process. She manages to slump down and throw a leg out, showing off her high heels.  
He lifts her phone up, “Ready?” he asks stifling a laugh.  
“One, two”  
She wears an exhausted, disgruntled look as he snaps the photo.  
“Come have a look” he helps her up again and shows her what he captured.  
“I love it!” Emilia squeals and grabs her phone out of his hands “I gotta show the world what I endured tonight in order to look this good” she’s giggling, her cheeks are flushed, and he knows she only half believes in what she’s saying. A tiny spitfire of a woman, strikingly beautiful and always too humble.  
“Yet you’re still shorter than me in those things.” Kit responds endearingly which earns him another playful slap on the chest. They make their way to her ride, stumbling and laughing all the way, reciting a jumble of lyrics from the songs they just got done dancing to.  
Once they squeeze their way into the back of the large SUV, breathless and dizzy, they find themselves resting up against one another. Her head, again, on his shoulder, his head on hers, reveling in the quiet, the bass still thrumming in their ears. The swaying of the car soothes their exhausted bodies and wired minds. Kit closes his eyes, relaxing for the first time this evening now that he’s out of the spotlight. 

“We’re here, Miss” the driver says and jerks Emilia awake from her light slumber.  
“Oh! Thanks so much!” she croaks, with one eye open.  
She shakes Kit’s leg.  
“We’re here” she whispers  
“Hmm?”  
“Come on” she grabs his hand and leads him to the front door. 

All the lights are off in Emilia’s Venice Beach bungalow and the darkness only contributes to their clumsiness. She’s trying to rip off her high heels, he’s fumbling with his shoes.  
She throws her stilettos across the room and they land with a thud.  
“Thank god, my feet are aching!” she says relieved “Let’s dance some more! Alexa!”  
“Alexa! Play Tupac!” she yells again. Silence. She busts out laughing.  
“She’s ignoring you” Kit jokes from the entryway  
“Where are you?”  
“By the door I can’t get my fucking laces undone” he grunts in frustration.  
She pads over to him and stifles a laugh.  
“Oh my god how difficult can it be?” She tries to yank a shoe off his foot and loses her balance. He catches her and she giggles.  
“You’re reckless Clarke” he snorts.  
Their eyes slowly adjust to the dark, fluid silhouettes, a puzzle with the right pieces. Emilia exhales and presses her face up against Kit’s chest. He forgets about his shoes for a moment and playfully kisses the top of her head. She looks up at him with a sleepy and content smile and rests her hands on his cheeks. They look into each other's eyes, both sparkling with anticipation. A split second of understanding before their lips lock. When they pull away a flicker of remorse flashes across Kit’s face.  
“How drunk are you?”  
She bites her lip.  
“Not very.”  
He gingerly puts a finger under her chin and tilts her head up to look at him.  
“We can’t” she says softly.  
“I know”  
He leans in to kiss her, rougher this time. A quiet moan escapes from the back of her throat. When they finally come up for air, Kit bends down, frantically pulling his shoes off as if they’re on fire. Emilia brushes her overcoat off her shoulders. A trail of clothes follow behind as they made their way to her bedroom.

Emilia’s arm is draped across his chest, her face nuzzled into his side. Kit is snoring lightly, an arm instinctively wrapped around her back. A nearby car alarm startles them awake.  
“Shit” she opens one eye to see the bright Los Angeles sun peeking through the curtains. She sits up, scrambling to find her phone. At some point it was tossed on the nightstand and forgotten about. Her arm blindly pats around until she feels the hard casing of her phone. It’s dead.  
“Shit” she hisses  
Opening her eyes fully she sees her Valentino dress in a pile on the floor.  
“Shit!” she rushes over to hang it up but a wave of nausea hits her. She throws it back on the floor and quickly pads to the bathroom, launches herself at the toilet and vomits. As she’s kneeling over the bowl she feels something warm between her thighs, last night’s cum trickles down her leg.  
“You alright?” Kit asks groggily from the bed  
Emilia wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and tries to stand up but she collapses onto the floor and puts a hand against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.  
“Yes -um. No.” she answers, her voice wavering “My head. I can’t- I can’t see.”  
Kit shoots up of bed stark naked and runs to her. Emilia reaches her hand up for him to grab as she tries to stand. He instead scoops her up and carries her back to bed. He gently lays her down and puts a hand on her flushed cheek.  
“What do you need? Water ? Aspirin?”  
She nods, eyes still closed.  
“I’m right here. It’s going to be OK.”  
A quiet sob escapes from her mouth. She drank too much. It’s just a hangover migraine she thinks to herself. Kit returns with a glass and an aspirin, he helps her sit up to sip some water. She falls back and rests against the pillow. He pulls the sheets up under her chin. Emilia slowly opens her eyes to look at him.  
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to be my babysitter last night or this morning.” Her voice sounds small and distant, “Can you just hold my hand for a bit until the throbbing goes away?”  
“Of course, I’m staying for as long as you need.” Kit grips her trembling hand reassuringly, “And don’t apologize, I had a fantastic time, I haven’t danced that hard in ages.”  
She smiles, tears quivering on her lids, threatening to spill over. Though she wasn’t back at her flat in Hampstead she was home, here, with Kit, and he wasn’t going to leave her side. He kissed her forehead and they rested in an easily silence for a while.

The truth, was that they were best mates, nothing more, nothing less. The reality, was that they were soulmates, always pulled towards each other no matter the outside circumstances, talking without saying a word, loving without boundaries.

Emilia breaks the silence.  
“We can’t keep doing this.”  
Kit nods. “I know. Never again.”

Instead of a goodbye, they recite this conversation each and every time. These words were their mantra, lingering on their lips like a prayer.


	2. Let Me Land Softly Back In Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back again with the final two chapters! Thanks to everyone who has already read and commented. It means a lot!

London, October 23rd, 2019 

This time around the party is significantly more intimate but no less of a rager. Everyone is crammed into Emilia’s eccentrically decorated Hampstead flat, chatting, dancing, and laughing as the birthday girl bounced from guest to guest emphatically waving her hands around in deep conversation. 

When Kit arrives he scans the crowd for familiar faces, one of which was the boisterous Jason Momoa, towering over the rest of the tiny Brits. As soon as Jason spots Kit he tackles him into a bear hug and ushers him to the kitchen where Emilia is talking with a friend while munching on a handful of grapes.   
“There you are!” she says giddily and holds her arms out for a hug, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”  
“You know me, always fashionably late” he quips as he pulls away from the embrace to snatch a grape from her hand and pop one in his mouth.   
“Look at this! My boys together at last!” Emilia says and pinches their cheeks enthusiastically.   
After the three of them agree to take a photo of their mini cast reunion, Jason heads over to dance and Emilia starts fussing around the kitchen piling food on a plate.  
“Here, have something to eat. Do you want some cake? How about a drink?”  
Kit grabs her arm, “Don’t worry about me, it’s your party, go enjoy yourself I promise you I won’t starve.” He takes the plate from her and she crosses her arms in protest.  
“Well that’s impossible, I always worry about you,” Emilia says with a frown. What would normally be a playful remark instead causes a flicker of unease to flash across her face. It’s gone in an instant and her grin returns as a guest wanders into the kitchen to refill their drink.   
“I’ll have some cake, superhero diet be damned.” Kit replies, trying to keep the conversation light.   
“Does that mean you’ll join me on the dance floor and bust out the infamous shoulder roll?” Emilia says as she pouts her lips and mocks his signature move.   
He laughs and puts a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, “Maybe! But all this sugar might weight me down.”  
“You realize you can’t say no to me tonight, right? I better see you in the living room ready to go as soon as you finish at least one slice of cake.”  
“Fine.” Kit grimaces and shoos her away, not letting her brief display of concern leave his mind quite yet.

The celebration begins to wrap up in the early morning as the drowsy guests trickle out leaving piles of empty cups in their wake. Kit busies himself in the kitchen wrapping up leftover food while Lola, ever faithful, tends to the dirty dishes. When Emilia enters, after having said her goodbyes to the last of the lingering friends, she yawns and stretches her arms above her head like a cat basking in the sun. Lola gives her a knowing look before pulling Emilia in for a brief hug and dismissing herself.   
“What’s on your mind, birthday girl?” Kit asks, walking over to Emilia and wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s silent for a moment before her eyes widen.  
“I think I might be a bad person.”  
He laughs at such an absurd notion.   
“I had some drinks earlier, maybe I shouldn’t have.”  
“Drinking at your own party does not make you a bad-”  
She cuts him off, “I’m late. Probably exhaustion” she waves a hand dismissively, “maybe stress. It’s a stupid thought, but if this is real I could never forgive myself.”  
Kit stares at her for a moment, processing the news before he pulls her closer.   
“I’ve decided I’m not worried...either way,” Emilia says assuredly.  
“Either way,” Kit responds, “I want to be here. I am here. You know that right?”  
Her furrowed brow gives way to a grin. He can’t help but kiss her, this small, fierce companion of his.   
“It feels different this time. My boobs are killing me and I’m bloated all the time, my back is achy, I’ve been eating the strangest things.”   
“What can I do to help? Foot Massage? Cup of tea?”  
“Can we just stay like this for a while? I don’t want to think about how this may be the beginning of the craziest thing I’ve ever done.” Her shoulders tense up as if the weight of the situation has finally hit, “Luckily all I’ve got lined up is a few more public appearances and by Christmas time I can hole up here and wear pajamas day in and day out. Come spring, I can keep writing and stay behind the camera.”  
Kit can see the cogs and wheels working in her mind as she tries to plan out the next 7 months.   
“You’re a madwoman.” he scoffs  
“What? Are you saying you can’t picture me writing, producing, and directing with a baby in one of those cute little cloth slings?”   
“I absolutely can and I think you’re mad for it.”  
Emilia sighs in defeat, “If I slow down I’ll consider all the ways this could go wrong. Preeclampsia, another aneurysm, miscarriage, premature labor. I know my doctors will say it’s too much of a risk, so can we pretend for a little bit that everything will be OK?”  
He silently pulls her into his chest and holds her tight, hoping she can sense how fervidly he loves her, how he’d do anything in his power to keep her safe. She softens against his embrace and rests her head against his fast-beating heart. Once her ragged breaths begin to slow and turn into yawns, he picks her up and carries her to bed. As he gently kisses her forehead he can’t help but realize that the birthday girl had somehow managed to give him the best gift he could ever ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually struggled with this chapter the most out of all three but I hope I was able to convey all the emotion this sort of situation would have. Here's an excerpt from the movie Waitress that provided some inspiration.
> 
> "Dear baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it. "


	3. An Unsung Melody is Mine for Safekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I surprisingly had this chapter completed before I finished the first two. Short and sweet followed by some wishful thinking re:instagram posts.

May 16th, 2020  
London’s St Mary’s Hospital

The new parents are standing over the bassinet, Emilia’s head resting against Kit’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her. Their rosy-cheeked bundle of joy is sleeping soundly and the exhausted couple enjoys a moment of peace and quiet. 

“She has your eyes,” says Kit, voice oozing with pure adoration.   
“She has that dark curly hair of yours.” Emilia replies gleefully, “The endless hours of delight I’ll have from putting her hair in bows and pigtails. I can’t wait. And that pout!” Emilia puts a hand over her heart, “So dramatic! That’s you completely.”  
“Bollocks.” Kit grunts “She looks just like you when she’s crying.”  
“Not even a bit! She gets that melancholic look from her papa.”   
They sigh in unison, admiring their new creation. Another moment of silent pride.   
“She’s perfect.”  
A trait they can agree on.  
“She’s perfect.”

@emilia_clarke Instagram Post May 17th, 2020  
A picture of a pair of tiny pink feet   
Another of Kit cradling his daughter in a rocking chair  
“These two have my heart under lock and key”  
#utterlyandcompletelyheadoverheelsinlove 

@emilia_clarke Instagram Post May 16th, 20201  
Kit sitting criss-cross on the floor with their one-year-old in his lap. Both he and his daughter have their curly hair pulled on top of their heads with matching bows. His eyebrows are raised in utter disbelief that his wife could convince him to wear a sparkly pink bow for all of social media to see but his grin says otherwise. Their daughter is giggling, a chubby fist in her mouth.   
“Changing careers to be a full-time hairstylist BRB.”  
#curlyhairdontcare#mynewfavoritepasttime#twinsies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the weird formatting issues I still don't 100% how to translate it from my google docs onto this site. Thanks for reading and for all the nice comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and please leave feedback if you're so inclined. Again thanks for reading and I'll try to have part two up as soon as possible! Part three has been finished for weeks and I'm using that as motivation to smooth out the rough edges of part two.


End file.
